Chapter 11 – Elias Notices Something’s Off
Sam's POV
There’s something about Elias Cross that makes me uneasy.
Not in the same way Declan Ward makes me uneasy. Declan is danger you can see. He’s a blade glinting in the sun, obvious and sharp, ready to cut.
Elias… he’s different.
He’s quiet danger. The kind you don’t notice until you realize it’s already too late.
It starts small.
I drop my pen in class, bend to pick it up, and when I sit back up, Elias is watching me. Not in the casual, bored way he watches other people. This is focused. Intent.
Like he’s trying to figure out what puzzle piece doesn’t fit.
I clear my throat, force my voice lower when I mutter, “What?”
He doesn’t blink. “You grip your pen too tight. Almost like you’re scared of it.”
My chest tightens. It’s nothing, a stupid observation, but it feels like he’s peering straight into my ribs.
“I’m not,” I snap back, maybe too quickly.
His mouth curves in the faintest smirk. He doesn’t argue. Just goes back to his notebook like he never said anything.
But I feel it.
The weight of him watching.
At dinner, it happens again.
I’m halfway through chewing when Declan laughs across the table. That sound. That awful sound. It’s like glass splintering in my head. My hand trembles around my fork before I can stop it.
And Elias notices.
He always notices.
He leans in, voice low so no one else can hear. “You’ve got a tell.”
I freeze. “What?”
He picks at his food casually, not even looking at me. “When you’re upset. Your hand shakes. Only for a second, but it’s there.”
Panic surges in my throat. I force a laugh, rough and low. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” His eyes flick to mine, sharp, too sharp.
I shove another bite of food in my mouth just to shut myself up.
By the time we’re back in the room, my nerves are shot.
Elias drops onto his bed, stretches out like a cat, lights flickering from his lighter in the dark. He looks relaxed. Lazy.
But I know better.
He’s studying me.
Always studying me.
I keep my back to him, pretending to scroll through my phone. My mind races with every slip I might have made. My voice. My walk. The binder. The way my eyes burn when Declan so much as breathes in my direction.
I can’t afford this.
If Elias figures me out, everything’s over.
Later that night, I wake to the sound of my own voice.
I don’t know what I said—maybe Lily’s name, maybe nothing at all—but my throat is raw, my chest tight.
And Elias is sitting up.
He’s not pretending to sleep. He’s not hiding it.
He’s just sitting there, in the dark, watching me.
The lighter clicks open, flame sparking. His face glows for a second, then vanishes into shadow.
“You dream loud,” he says softly.
My blood freezes.
I sit up fast, hoodie clutched tight around me. “Everyone talks in their sleep.”
“Not like that.”
He tilts his head, eyes catching the faint glow from the streetlight through the blinds. Calm. Too calm.
“What did you say?”
I can’t breathe.
“Nothing,” I force out, voice cracking. “You’re hearing things.”
“Am I?”
There it is again—that quiet danger.
I want to scream at him, tell him to stop digging, stop looking, stop making me feel like my skin’s inside out. But I can’t. That would only make it worse.
So I do the only thing I can. I lie back down, yank the blanket over my head, and mutter, “Goodnight.”
My heart is hammering so loud I can’t hear anything else.
For a long moment, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
Then the lighter snaps shut.
Darkness.
But I can still feel his eyes on me.
The next morning, he doesn’t bring it up. He acts normal—whatever “normal” is for Elias Cross. Quiet. Detached. Flicking his lighter on and off as we walk to class.
But I know better.
He’s holding it.
Waiting.
And when he asks again, when he finally pushes, I don’t know if I’ll be ready.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to lie my way out.
And worse—
I don’t know if he already knows.